


Once More, With Feeling

by DefaltManifesto



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Other, Past Attempted Suicide, Platonic Kissing, Put under other cuz it's a platonic romantic relationship I'm not sure what to call it, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Spoilers through episode 8, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because you know your life is insignificant doesn't mean you're hopeless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once More, With Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> I could not for the life of me get this idea out of my head and so I wrote this because it made me feel better about my own annual existential crisis. I don't think Owen gets nearly enough credit so yeah. Cheers to you man. Title shamelessly stolen from BtvS

Owen Harper was a man who prided himself on being able to take whatever life threw at him and just fucking dealing with it. It's what he had been doing for the past five years, and just because he had gone and died didn't mean any of that had to change. He was still Dr. Owen Harper of Torchwood.

The same Owen that had faced down a Weevil in a cage. The same Owen that had ripped open the fabric of the universe just to save his boss and his coworker because living without them was worse than dying. He knew that for a fact. He had died. Was still dying, and sure it sucked and he hated it, but at least he had Tosh and Jack.

Things were different now though. When Tosh and Jack got stuck back in the 1940s, Owen had panicked. The fear he felt at never seeing Jack or Tosh again was like what he felt when he lost Diane magnified by ten thousand. He did what he could to bring them back, because he knew he would never be able to live with himself if he didn't.

Despite what Ianto had seemed to think, Owen knew that no matter what, Jack was going to hate him for what he had done. But he was used to seeing crushing disappointment in the eyes of those he held closest. That he could survive just fine. He'd rather have people hate him than not have anyone around to do so.

And when he had met Jack's eyes and saw the man's bottomless, unreadable gaze, he had prepared himself for the anger. Then Jack had tugged him close and he couldn't stop the tears. It was something he had never felt before. Acceptance, regardless of what he had done. Such a thing had never happened in his past.

Then had come the day he had died. The flash, the pain, the darkness, and then nothing until he was brought back and he was staring up into Jack's stupid face and he had demanded to know the stupid code. It was in that moment that Owen Harper lost his faith in Jack Harkness, though that was only temporary. But he also lost his faith in life that day as well. What was the point in living, when at the end of it all, the only reason anyone could be bothered to bring him back was for a stupid code?

The worst part of it was, he couldn't go back to being dead, at least not easily. Trying to drown didn't work, and he had only ended up making himself cough up water for hours afterwards. Shooting himself clearly wouldn't work. Really, the only thing he could think of was burning himself alive. He supposed that wouldn't be too bad. He couldn't feel much after all.

There were small pricks here and there. It was random, and after a few days, he realized he couldn't even really predict when he would feel something. One day, he would feel someone's hand touch his, and the next, he was completely numb once more. He began to wonder if it was more of a mental block than anything that kept him from feeling pain or pleasure.

The realization came to him the night in the jail cell, when he was simmering with a deadly mixture of hopelessness and anger. He remembered his dad saying once that the only thing more dangerous than a hopeless man was an angry hopeless man. Still, even feeling like that, he couldn't take Jack down, not even close. Something that night changed. After that talk, the things he was able to feel became more frequent.

Subconsciously, he was sure something clicked in his brain to make him finally feel the sharp pain of Jack's fist into his stomach.

"That's going to bruise, you ass, and it won't go away!" Owen ground out, shoving the Captain away. "So much for my being 'fragile'. Guess you just wanna reserve me for your own punching bag, that it?"

"Of course not!" Jack shouted. His shoulders slumped after a moment and he forced himself away even further from the doctor. "I just...haven't gotten used to you like this yet. I'm used to getting angry and just-"

"Punching me? Us? Like you always do? Turned yourself into our own abusive daddy, yeah?" Owen asked, unable to resist the urge to goad him even though he knew it would only make things worse. He was glad the others were already gone. Ianto would've stepped in by now, and then they wouldn't be able to work it out. Though punching Jack in the face seemed more productive.

"It's nothing like that," Jack said, turning to face him. "And you know it. I just...I'm sorry. You scared me when you took that jump."

"Well it's not like Ianto would've made it," Owen said with a shrug. "If he hadn't rolled right, he'd be dead, and I'd just have a neck at an uncomfortable angle for the rest of my death. Risk was lower for me."

"We don't  _know_  that you wouldn't die," Jack said. "And you said it yourself. Taking the injuries and keeping them around forever is worse than actually coming back to life."

"Look, Jack. I did what seemed smart at the time. I'm not apologizing for that," Owen said.

"I just wish you wouldn't think you were someone we could throw away," Jack said a little helplessly as he stepped closer.

Owen backed away. "You mean you don't want me thinking of myself the way you think of  _yourself_. Do I have that right?"

"That's different! You said so yourself," Jack said.

"No, no. Jack, you don't get to lecture me on throwing my life away when that's what you do on almost a daily basis with us," Owen said, jabbing a finger at him. "Because you are right on one thing. It  _is_  different, but not in a way that puts you on higher ground."

Jack's brow furrowed. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you think you have the moral high ground. But you don't," Owen said. "Because I understand something that maybe you don't quite get." He stepped closer, a cheap thrill racing through him for a moment when he realized for once, his close proximity was making Jack uncomfortable. "You seem to think that since you can come back every time, you can throw your life around as easily as you throw your dick."

Jack's eyebrows raised but Owen lashed out, slapping his jaw to get his attention back.

"I know I can't throw my life around, Jack. And I also know that our lives are equally unimportant," Owen said.

"What?"

Owen shoved him back. "Because that's it, isn't it? You put no stock on your life, and neither do I. But for me, it's freeing. My life means absolutely nothing so I can do what I like with it, and I will be damned sure to do everything I can to achieve what I need and stay alive doing it. You on the other hand, you just let yourself die and die over and over again like it doesn't hurt every fucking time! Like we can't see how much it hurts you to die and keep coming back! At least when I finally do die, I won't be hurting everyone that loves me in the process, because I'm doing everything I can to make sure I don't hurt myself anymore than I need to."

"Owen..."

"Jack! Shut up!" Owen grabbed Jack's jaw tight between the fingers of his good hand. "I'm not taking any unnecessary risks. You think I throw myself in harm's way because I think I can't die. But see, I still have the god damn instinct to get out of the way of a bullet and you don't. So yeah, that puts me on the high ground. Because at least I'm not hurting anyone."

"You selfish little punk," Jack growled, fists coming forward to seize Owen's jacket and yank him even closer. "Don't you realize that every time I die I'm doing it to save all of you? It was either I die or you do and I'm not going to let that happen to any of you!"

"No Jack. It's not like that," Owen said with a slow shake of his head. "People got along just fine without you. Your  _life_  is not important, but the rest of you is. So stop throwing it all away while we watch because you're only doing more harm than good. Trust us to take care of ourselves. We can take our own bullets and our own hits. You have to let us because one day, you aren't going to be there and if you never let us learn to dodge, the rest of them are going to end up dead."

He could see the tears in Jack's eyes, the way they were shining and for a moment, he could feel the wet trails of his own on his cheeks. That was new.

"Owen..."

"God dammit," Owen hissed, releasing Jack's jaw and wrapping his arms tight around the other's shoulders. "You're a fucking idiot sometimes you know that? I know I'm...not the best with words so maybe it was a bit difficult to figure out what I was trying to say. But just because we all lead insignificant lives and are, in the end, unimportant specks on this stupid planet, doesn't mean we should go throwing our lives away for dumb reasons."

"Yeah...yeah I got it. And I get that that...wasn't what you were doing," Jack said.

Owen settled his face into Jack's neck and a moment later, he actually _felt_  the Captain's hands rub down his back. "Feels nice, you know. Actually  _feeling_  something."

"What? You can feel this?" Jack asked, a little surprised as he pressed a bit firmer, drawing Owen in tighter.

"A bit, yeah. Every once and awhile I do," Owen said.

"And you didn't tell us?" Jack asked.

"Couldn't really predict them. Didn't think it'd be important," Owen said.

Jack pulled away, hands sliding down to clutch at Owen's forearms. "You should've told me. We could've done something to help. I thought you didn't...couldn't feel anything at all." Jack frowned and then squeezed his arms. "Can you feel this?"

Owen raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, actually. 's the longest I've felt anything actually."

Jack smiled and then placed a kiss on each of his cheeks. "We'll get there, Owen. Maybe there is hope to make you feel again."

"I don't know if I want to," Owen said after a moment. He pulled out of Jack's grip.

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because it's not all about touch," Owen said. "Who needs it?" He turned away completely and shrugged. "I mean, just because I had it my whole life and stuff doesn't mean it's necessary. All I ever did was use it as an excuse to run away. Lose myself in another person and all that. And now I can't do that, so I have to face my problems and I guess that's...nice. I just don't see the point in trying to get it back because..."

Jack's hand grabbed his shoulder and slowly spun him back around so that he was looking the older in the eyes. "Because you're afraid that if you start to hope that you'll be able to feel again...and you don't get it, that'll be it for you. Last bit of hope snuffed out, yeah? Bit hard to keep living so free if you let yourself dare to hope again."

Owen swallowed thickly, staring down at the ground. "Something like that, yeah. Now that I'm free from all my...pesky doubts and fears, I don't wanna give them a chance to slip back in."

"I don't think you're really free of them," Jack said, hands sliding up Owen's arms, and  _god_  he could feel it and that was fucking terrifying because he should've been numb by now. "If you were really done being afraid, you wouldn't be so scared of this."

"Jack-" Owen looked up, freezing when his eyes met Jack's.

"Owen. Stop being so afraid. Stop lying to yourself. Our lives may mean nothing but it's like you said. That gives us the freedom to make the most of it. So do what you keep telling me to do and actually do whatever it is you want," Jack said, voice barely a whisper.

For a moment, Owen just stared at him and then his hands were fisting in Jack's hair, silky strands of hair sliding between his fingers as he pressed his lips tight to the Captain's. It was a comfort, a glorious and wonderful comfort to feel Jack's lips beneath his, to feel hands squeezing at his shoulders and to cup at the back of Jack's head and actually  _feel_  all of it.

He gave a soft groan and pulled away, burying his face in Jack's neck as he began to cry, sobs shaking his shoulders. Jack shushed him, hands running down his back until he had calmed.

"Don't know w-what's gotten into me," Owen managed to get out, lips trembling against Jack's neck.

"Just a little overwhelmed. It's okay," Jack said, kissing Owen's temple. "I'm happy to give you what you need."

"I don't go for blokes," Owen mumbled against his throat. "I just..."

"Want to be touched? And loved?" Jack asked with a voice full of understanding. "You can have all of that without sex, Owen. Let me give that to you."

Owen took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out in a rush. "Yeah, okay. Sounds good."

Jack guided him over to the couch and kicked the pizza boxes off the coffee table. Owen fell asleep, head in Jack's lap with the man's fingers stroking through his hair.

After that night, Owen never forgot what it was like to feel.

 


End file.
